by Jane Price
“Well, let’s not do that.” Victor made his way back to the bed where Meredith stood and embraced her. They stood for a few moments and took in the moment. Victor’s mind raced as he weighed his options. He could run away with Meredith and live his life like she had, a vagabond that knew no home or he could stand and fight. Meredith broke away from the embrace and walked towards the window. Swinging her leg through the window frame she extended her hand out towards him.
He knew that if he stood to fight there was a good chance he would die. However, he would be defending his mother and his family, the only thing that he had ever known. If he walked away he would be throwing everything he had ever worked for away. All of those lesson where he learned how to behave properly in the company of royalty or about the flags and banners of the nearby houses. There would be no purpose for any of that any more. He would have to start from scratch and relearn how to function as a human being, not as royalty.
However, if he went with Meredith he knew that he would spend whatever time he had left on this world with the only woman he truly loved. He knew that it sounds ridiculous, but it was enough for him. That was enough of a pro to outweigh any pros of staying. So, Victor pulled his pants back up and fastened his belt and took a step forward to his new life as a regular man.
THE END
A Viking’s Mercy
Mary had always enjoyed the bards and storytellers that would travel into their villages, but these once jolly men were slowly being replaced by ravaged, injured men. They would come into town on horses that were badly wounded, their own wounds worse than those on their animals. Arms in slings and heads wrapped in bandages. They would sit in the meeting halls and recount their tales about horrible defeat.
These stories had swept across the coast of England and while some disagreed, they all agreed on one thing. Roving bands of savages would pull onto their shores in massive wooden ships not far from civilization. These barbarians would then swarm onto the beaches to rape and pillage anything they came across.
Mary, like all of the other women in town, would quake at these stories, terrified that their own town was next, but the men in their town seemed so sure of themselves. She didn’t understand how, looking into the faces of these great men who had been cut down, they thought they would fair any better. She had begged her father to reinforce their defenses, but she had always been laughed at and told that it wasn’t her place.
That is, until one day while she sat on the cliff sides overlooking the ocean. And, on the horizon she saw an unfamiliar sight. She strained her eyes to see what it could possibly be, her eyes had played tricks on her before, but it was unmistakable. Along the horizon, crashing amongst the waves were long wooden ships. They hugged the crashing waves, their sails were raised high, each had a unique crest or symbol that she didn’t recognize as English.
After a moment she realized that they were turning towards shore. The shore she was sitting on. She stood up and rushed back into the town, her voice and screams carried and drew a crowd, but it was her father who stopped her and calmed her down. His hands held her firmly as she panted and gasped, pointing behind her towards the ocean.
“What is it, girl? Spit it out,” he exclaimed. She took a moment and collected herself. A small crowd had formed, including a few of the men who had come into the town as a safe haven. With a deep breath she spoke.
“Vikings.” Her father and the other men laughed, but the men who had narrowly escaped with their lives cautiously made their way towards the cliff sides.
“Darling, your eyes are playing tricks on you again. Like the time you thought you saw the Kraken. These oceans hold many wonders, but these roving bands of barbarians are just a tale.” He looked over her shoulder at the two men who had just reached the cliff sides. “They’re deserters who wanted a warm place to sleep for a few days before moving on, nothing more.” As he said this one man fell to his knees and began to weep. The other turned and looked at the crowd that had formed.
“We’re doomed.” At this, he reached down and tried to console the other man. Mary’s father and the other men in the crowd ran towards the cliffs as Mary stood in her spot. She wanted to feel good about being right, but she only felt terror. Her father and other man turned and ran back towards the town as soon as they realized that she was right.
Her father stopped in front of her and grabbed her again. She had never seen her father scared before. He was a gruff, bearded man with greying hair, but even under his bushy eyebrows she could tell his eyes were wide with panic. That was when her father unknowingly uttered his last words to his daughter.
“Hide.”
****
Mary sprinted towards her home, grabbing at her closest friend. Her friend was nearly inconsolable. Mary found her sitting on the side of the path, talking to herself. Mary grabbed her by the hands and pulled her to her feet.
“I know where to go, come with me.” Her friend fought slightly, but after a moment gave in and followed behind her as they slammed open the door to Mary’s house. She ran through into the back garden and swung open the cellar door. Her friend stood at the open doors and stared at Mary.
“We’ll be sitting ducks in there, Mary.” Mary let out an exhausted sigh and forced her friend down the steps. “How will we know when they’re gone?” Mary followed her down the steps and closed the door behind them as they walked down the last few steps, their feet reaching dirt.
“We don’t have a better choice than this. We just need to stay quiet until-” A scream could be heard through the wooden doors. Mary climbed a few steps and peeked out of the crack in the cellar. It was only for a moment but she saw a man, dressed only in a leather shirt, slide an axe from his belt and lodge it into the baker’s son’s back who was attempting to flee.
She let the door slam shut and grabbed a nearby broom, hoping that it would seal the entrance. Her friend let out a yelp as the screams grew outside. Mary quietly ran down the steps and placed her hand over her friend’s mouth, hoping to muffle her screams. They sat like this for what felt like hours, listening intently as screams began to fade.
After the screams had completely died down they waited longer still, hoping that these men would merely move on to another neighboring village and leave them alone. Mary’s mind raced immediately to where they could go and what kinds of stories they would tell. But this thought was interrupted by a voice just outside the door.
“Throck, what about this?” Mary and her friend sat paralyzed with fear as they heard footsteps approach through the mud. What they heard next was the splintering of wood and they were both blinded by a sudden flash of sunlight. Before she knew what was happening Mary was picked up, carried into the sunlight and thrown into the mud. A number of men then started to speak up.
“Oh, now this one is pretty.”
“Looks like this is where they were keeping the real treasure.”
“I knew we sailed an ocean for some reason.”
“Enough.” Her eyes slowly adjusted to the light and the voices stopped as this new voice boomed above all the others. She looked up out of the mud and stared into the face of the man she would learn is Throck.
****
Throck stood at just over six feet. He wasn’t the tallest, nor did he appear to be the strongest, of the men that stood before Mary, but he held an air of importance and gravitas that she had never sensed or seen before. When he spoke, the others listened. That was the kind of power that her father didn’t even seem to hold.
She had heard so many stories of these vicious savages and how they didn’t listen to any other man. However, here they stood, at attention for this man. This man who was giving her all the attention in the world.
She looked up at him and into his eyes. They were piercing, with strange coloration that she had never seen before. Whites and blacks mixed in with the light blue. She couldn’t look away, and he didn’t seem to want to break eye-contact with her either. His eyes seemed to peer into her thoughts.
&
nbsp; He had golden hair, dirty with sweat, blood, and mud, but it was beautiful regardless. It was tied in a tight braid that hung down his back slightly. She noted how the sides of his head were shaved and there was some kind of tattoo under the short hair. She had never seen that before, and she thought she would be scared. But she wasn’t.
He wore a tight fitting leather shirt that appeared to have a form of chainmail under it. Both exemplified his arms, which were covered in dirt and sweat. A wooden shield, chipped and breaking, hung from one arm. Arrow heads from combat were still lodged in between the planks of wood and it was clear that it had saved him from a few different blows by sword or axe before. A steel sword, which seemed incredibly plain and simple for such a warrior, was held loosely in his other hand.
Mary sat in silence as he slid the sword back into the sheath and he slung his shield over onto his back. He squatted down until their eyes were level. He tilted his head as he stared at her, confusion etched across his face and his eyes narrowed as he stared at her. He finally spoke, but unlike before, he spoke quietly with compassion, as if he didn’t want the others to hear him.
“Who are you?” Mary sat in silence as she thought about her answer. She didn’t know how they would handle the fact that her father had run the town. “Please, don’t be scared. We don’t plan to kill you.” Even though it wasn’t the most confident she had ever felt, his words helped.
“I’m Mary, daughter of the town leader.” With this, the man stood, but never broke eye contact. She couldn’t help but feel like those eyes could change to either be piercing or gentle depending on what he wanted.
“Hello, Mary daughter of the town leader, my name is Throck.” He swept his arm across his men, introducing them. “These are my men that have come from the sea with me. We’re here to take any and all of the treasures that are locked away here.” He held his hand out to Mary. “Will you please take me to them?” She stared up at the hand and tentatively took it.
Throck lifted her to her feet and braced her. As soon as she had gotten to her feet she felt like her legs were going to give out. However, Throck was there and she felt strong next to him. Her friend sat in silence, quietly shaking and crying in the mud.
Throck looked at one of the other large men that was in his group and motioned him towards the girl. Mary recognized him as the one she believed that found them in the first place. The man took two giant strides forward a smile plastered on his face, and lifted the girl up and threw her over his shoulder. He walked towards Mary’s house, the other men laughing amongst themselves.
“What are you doing with her?” Mary turned, as Throck began to lead her away. Her friend didn’t say anything, paralyzed by fear. Throck looked at the panic on Mary’s face as she stared into the eyes of her friend. Throck sighed and motioned again for the man, but this time, it was a motion to set the girl down.
The man said something in a language Mary did not understand and set the woman down back into the mud. She laid there shaking and sobbing as the man glared at Throck. The other men in the group also began to mutter amongst themselves, again, in a language she didn’t understand. Throck held his hand up. With that, the muttering stopped immediately. He said something in the same language as the large man and they all nodded in agreement.
He then turned towards Mary and, with one hand on the small of her back, began to lead her towards the center of town again. Mary allowed him to lead her along, scared at the thought of what would have happened without him. And she wondered what was going to happen to her friend now that she was leaving.
****
Once in the center of town Throck turned to Mary and held up his hands, indicating for her to stop. She stood and waited for him to speak, he was clearly searching for the correct words. She had to admit, it was impressive that he had learned any of their language. From the stories she had heard they were all stupid brutes, but she was quickly learning that there was a lot that they did not know about these people.
“We are here, as I said, for treasure. Gold and jewels. And my men need food and drink.” Throck looked at her and shrugged, almost asking if he had done a good job and gotten it right. “Where would we find those things?” Mary looked around, noticing the bodies of people she had grown up with. The reality of the situation began to set in, both men and women alike were lying dead in the streets.
Throck reached over and raised her chin so that their eyes were even again. “Don’t focus on those. Focus on me.” Mary could feel herself shaking and felt as if there had just been a cold wind that swept through the village. Throck moved his hand from her chin to her shoulders, his strong, calloused hands braced her and stopped her shaking. She didn’t want to give up their treasures, but at this point it was either that or her life.
“Gold would most likely be in the church.” She swallowed hard and pointed at a large building with a steeple in the corner of the town. “We don’t have much else in the way of wealth, other than what is there.” Throck nodded along as she continued. “Food and drink could be found in nearly every home. We don’t have one central point for everything.” Throck nodded again as she finished.
He slid his hands from her shoulders to her waist. She had never been with a man before, let alone been held like this. She had to admit that it was comforting. Even under the circumstances. Throck looked passed her and shouted at the men that were gathering in clusters around the town. She was amazed that there were only about thirty or forty men. They had made quick work of things in such small numbers.
“Men, that is where we will find the treasure,” he pointed at the Church. “And feel free to raid the homes for food or wine. Each should be stocked with what you like.” The men all let out a collective cheer and began running towards the church. A few of the larger, plumper men turned towards the homes and headed for the food, rubbing their stomachs eagerly. Throck turned his attention to Mary. “Now, for you.”
He leaned down and kissed her. It caught her off guard for a moment, but in almost an instant she found herself fully engaged in the kiss as well. His hands had a firm grip of her waist and she felt him pulling her close, she didn’t resist the urge and before she knew it, he was planted against her. Her hands, which were at her side, slowly climbed, gripping his arms as they kissed. She knew that he was dirty, but wanted nothing more than to feel his entire body.
They broke the embrace and she felt the color return to her face as her hands rubbed and massaged at his arms. Throck looked around and once again, searched for words. However, these seemed to be words he never knew that he would need or had never heard another person say. She look into his eyes and knew exactly what he wanted to say. She took his hand and led him back towards her house.
“We can go here.”
****
Throck followed Mary towards her house, and upon realizing where they were headed he dashed forward and grabbed her, swinging her up into the air. Mary yelped in fear, not knowing what he was going to do, but she gracefully landed in his arms. She immediately relaxed and sat still as Throck carried her the remaining few yards to the house.
He reared back and kicked the door open. She was amazed by his strength because he didn’t even seem to lose stride, even carrying her weight as well as his own. His feet moved deftly through the mud, and she could feel the muscles in his arms tensing and relaxing, like cords of rope. His hands were groping a bit at her side and legs as he walked.
Once inside the home, he set her down gently. Her legs wobbled for a moment, but she knew that he was there to grab her if she needed it. She turned and looked at him. He didn’t have a smile on his face, but he had the same intense stare that she had first seen on him. His eyes seemed to pierce her to her very core. Mary took a step back, but his hand snapped forward. She barely even saw it, it was just a blur.
With his hand he pulled her close once again. The other hand expertly began to unfasten her dress. Mary could feel her breath becoming short and staggered, her chest became flush and she could fe
el her cheeks becoming beet red. Throck stopped for a moment, and stared at her.
“Are you okay, you look like you’re ill.” Mary blushed even harder and she stammered, trying to formulate words.
“Yes, of course, I’m fine. But this is my,” she paused, feeling new levels of embarrassment that she had never experienced. Throck still stared at her, his face now tense with concern. “First time?” Throck thought for a moment and threw his head back to laugh. Mary pulled away, humiliated. Throck rushed forward and grabbed her, trying to comfort her as he had done before.
“No, no. I did not laugh at you, I am laughing at your language and your culture.” Mary looked horrified.
“I do not think that is a much better thing to laugh at.” Throck continued to laugh, but stopped himself when he saw and read the emotion on her face. He coughed once to stop and took a deep breath before he continued.
